Pandora's Soul

Chapter 4: Freedom

Bright, fluorescent lights scorch my eyes as they push me through the doorway, leaving the door ajar behind us. Spending years down in a dark, dimly lit cell has done me no good here. The weight of the lights feel unnatural, leaving a burning sensation in my irises. I used to be adapt to these kinds of lighting, but I suppose my current living situation has robbed me of that. I shouldn't be as annoyed by that as I am, however my lack of experience in this room makes me wary. At the very least I'd like to scope out the room, but I can't when my vision is being assaulted like so. Instead of a room, all I can is white. It hovers around, forcing its brightness on my eyes, forcing me to focus on that rather than this strange room I've entered. Well, I guess it's strange anyway. I can't see, but I've never been here before, I know that. On our usual walks, we never encounter a doorway or even a window. Now that I think of it, I haven't even seen the sunlight in 26 months. I can't imagine how pale my skin must look. I've always had darker, tan skin but I'm sure the time I've spent in here have not done good things to me. I won't be surprised if I get out of here and see my reflection, only to think how sickly I look. Overall, I think I've kept up good strength in here. I eat most of the meals sent my way, if I choose not to throw them against the wall, and I do quite a bit of exercise in my cell when I'm not being tortured by the video that likes to play in my mind or the overwhelming parade of depressing thoughts. Fun times I spend here.
And I can't help but think they're limited.
Why else would they bring me into this strange room? Unless, they've found out about the other crimes I've committed and my sentence has been lengthened. I pray to all the gods that thought is not the slightest bit true. If it is, then my promise to be obedient will stand no longer. I've served my time. For the most part.
When I pull away from my thoughts to search for something I can make out, I notice parts of my vision starting to clear. Some, but not all. Squinting does no good either, even though I try it anyway. I'm smart enough to not waste my energy on trying to see something of value when it will all become clear eventually. If only eventually could be a little sooner, I wouldn't be standing here like a blind fool.
In spite of the fact that I can't see much of anything, my ability to feel has not abandoned me.
A tug comes from my lower right, tightening my chains just enough to pinch the skin over my wrists. Dejas obviously in a bad mood today to yank my bondages so unnecessarily.
Her grip isn't the only precautions they've taken with me.
My gaze mostly stayed trained on the ground beneath my feet when they got me, but I didn't miss the eye shot of the gun attached to Bane's waist. I don't even have to look to know Deja and Dax wear similar ones. They're always there, an obvious threat, but a useless one. The probability that they've actually had to use them is pretty slim. The shiny black contraption doesn't frighten me as it should, but it certainly would with other prisoners. All the guards carry the guns on their hips, just in case. In case of something that will never happen. Strange, that people so "powerful" need weapons to protect themselves from us.
I scoff.
I'm guessing Dax heard, and did not like that, as I suddenly feel the pressure of what I'm guessing is fingertips at the small of my back. Anyone staring at us might assume the gesture is meant to be endearing, however I know what it really means. It's a threat, simple and clear as day. He apparently thinks so high of himself that he doesn't need to flash his death machine at me to instill his fear. I make no move to apologize, despite the marks I'm sure his nails are leaving on my back. This isn't a new routine for us. I might be unusually quiet, but that doesn't mean our hatred isn't communicated. Obedience doesn't mean I'll escape the brutality of them, only that it will be lessened. It's a sick concept and beyond unfair, but I won't deal with it much longer.
However, I am surprised that Bane has yet to take some sort of hold on me. Dax's fingers scar the back of my torso, and Deja's pale hands are wrapped around my heavy chains. Bane, on the other hand, does not seem to take an interest in me at all, electing to stare forward instead of at me.
The room ahead is still a little spotty, clearing from the bright assault of the lights, but I can see enough to spot the faraway look on his face.
In the years I've spent with him as one of my guards, I've never taken much of a chance to think about him. My eyes have definitely skewered him, trying to memorize the way he moves, as a thief always does, but beyond that I've never given much thought to him. I guess that happens with all mute people.
Without words, there's nothing remarkable about him except for the jagged scar that runs through his eyebrow, lifting it up into a permanent scowl like look. It cuts through the dark black hair of his brow, creating somewhat of a little channel. Ugly and uneven, it stretches from the side of his eye all the way up to the middle of his forehead. It's harder to see being on the left of him, and even more so trying not to be spotted, but I manage. Added with the distanced look in his deep blue eyes, I'd guess he has this mysterious and dark facade well put together.
"Victoria Eve Laydon. Metic of Province One. Hometown, Bellven. Occupation; none," the voice sounds long before I see where it comes from. I hadn't planned on looking up, but the random facts about me have certainly sparked my interest. By now, my vision has cleared, allowing me to see the snaky looking woman set upon a large throne at the end of the rug that stretches far out in front of me. We must be about fifty feet away from each other, but the intensity of her stare seems to vie for my attention, forcing me to meet her eyes. Eyes so dark, they could be black. Unusual for an Athenian. They always have eyes the color of gems. Blue, green, red, purple, but not black. Never black. "Crime, starting and fueling the fire of the decade. Casualties, too. Five years of schooling, before truancy. Family... none." She reads the words like there's an invisible paper in front of her, though I see none. The words are definitely rehearsed, spoken from memory, except for that last part. I sense a bit of interest staining her last words there, judging by how they dropped off so slowly.
Her eyebrow arcs, raising above one coal black eye that scans over me, without shame.
I don't fidget.
I won't give her the satisfaction. She's already claimed my rebellious manner, I won't allow anymore of my possessions. Against my better wishes, she has even seen my face, but that doesn't seem like much of an issue now. I've always been aware of the blood base the gods keep, listing all of the citizens of Helicity and their status, but I thought that if I kept a low enough profile, my reference would not be needed and I could keep my good record. It seems as though she's had access to my files, however. No other way could she have possibly known all my history. I've never even see this woman before, let alone shared my past with her.
The light tone of her skin proves she's an Athenian which is reason enough for me to hate her. Though I bite back my snarl, I don't answer her as I know she was trying to imply.
Instead of continuing to challenge her by meeting her gaze with the same intensity, I take the time to glance around the room, noting every escape exit and it's possible outcomes. I count each one in the back of my mind, totaling four. Two are wide windows, but they're on opposite sides of the room so I add them separately. The other is the door I've just exited and am currently being pushed away from. This is a routine thing for me and the need for it probably isn't necessary, but I like to be prepared.
I notice the room is oddly bare as my eyes dart around. Besides the wide windows, nothing decorates the walls other than the reflections of the golden throne the woman sits upon. The dark gray of the wallpaper seems lonely by itself on the wall. I debate spiking Dax's head up there to give it some company but I decide against it, only to double take a minute later when he shoves me forward. I dream about the idea for a minute when my feet stumble, almost making me trip on the lavish, royal red rug under my feet. It's so pristine I have a hard time believing it's even been used. The clean bristles match the rest of the ridiculously immaculate decor. Golden detail swirls at the corners of the room, glinting in all its magnificence, but except for that, not much else is scattered about. I've never been in these kinds of rooms before but I can guess what's it's for. Sentencing and such.
That's not a hard accusation to make, seeing the torches that burn bright and orange two feet away from the woman's head. I barely even have time to study them before she speaks again, obviously annoyed at the time I've wasted of hers.
"Does that sound correct to you, Miss Laydon?" She crows, speaking with the air of a royal, just like all the other Athenians.
Typical.
I nod my head, unable to draw my attention away from her strange black eyes once again. I'm not sure what it is about them, but I find myself entranced. The white lights hanging off the ceiling reflect in her irises, or pupils, I can't tell, giving them a sickly glow.
"I thought so... oh! How rude of me! I haven't introduced myself. I suppose you're quite confused," she rises to her feet, standing taller than I thought possible. "My name is Haven. I own this prison. You must've heard of me, haven't you?"
"Not a word." My words hadn't meant to inflict so much pain to her pride, but I can't say I don't feel a rush of satisfaction when her vicious grin falters ever so slightly.
"Odd, isn't it? Ah, well. I suppose you miss out on the news when you're locked away." One pale white hand stretches along her legs, brushing away invisible dirt. I know it's just for show, so she has something to do with her fingers. The only thing I find odd is how she seems to be the uncomfortable one now. Her act works however, making my eyes dart down to the strange skirt that covers her lower half. The material hanging off her waist is so long, I can hardly see her feet that point out at the bottom, clad in pointed red shoes. They match her whole outfit. Red as blood, just like the makeshift blouse she wears on her torso. The color is a stark contrast to her jet black eyes and hair, vibrant yet dark. I've never seen an Athenian quite like her before. Most people, Athenian or not, wear bland colors like black and gray, but here she is, sporting maroon like it's a common thing to do.
I meet her eyes, showing her that I am not, nor will I ever be afraid to do so. She responds in kind, a hostile look taking over her gaze. Up until now, she's been eerily kind, or at least acting like it, but something has changed. No longer is the olive branch of welcome extended to me.
"I guess that's a yes. What's the matter? Cat got your tongue?" At that last word, as if on cue, an animal, bigger than I've ever seen slinks out from behind the throne. My eyes find its reflection in the gold rather than the animal itself, but I still know what it is. It doesn't require a genius to realize that a panther has just appeared at her command. The animals fur is as black as midnight, as black as her eyes, but they don't hold the same malice hers do. Instead, the panther seems almost lazy, trailing a circle around her figure and flicking its tail to graze the seat. I only allow my eyes to flash to it momentarily, before I look back up at her, saying nothing.
"I suppose it does," she, herself, glances down at the large cat, letting one of her white hands fall down to its spine, stroking gently. "Do you know why you've been summoned here today?"
I hesitate to answer, even though the curiosity is killing me.
"No."
"Ah, she does speak. What a quiet one you are. A better quality than most here have in their possession."
After the time I've spent in here, Dax's presence and her confusing, drawn out sentences, I can't help but a feel a tad annoyed. There's a reason I was brought here and I get the idea she's going to tell me why. After, of course she gets through her glory of stalling. Too bad I don't have time for this. I think I'd much rather go back and rot in my cell than be here. The thought makes my voice sound more bitter than I had intended. Oh well.
"Are you going to get to the point or can I go back to my jail cell to stare at the wall, in peace?" I snap, each word like a breaking bone.
Expecting surprise or astonishment, I instead receive none. Nothing except a flicker of amusement,  though she is taken aback. The surprise of my outburst doesn't last long on her cat like features, giving way to the creepy smile she wears best.
"So she does have some snipe in her. Better watch that tone, Victoria, or else I may have to revoke the olive branch I've extended."
"What are you talking about?" I mutter, losing my interest in her silly games.
"Much better," she breathes, her grin widening to stretch to her eyes. Her hand never stops petting her panther, making the situation more eery than it is. My guards pressing grasps don't make it any better for me. "Now since you've been such a... compliant prisoner, I have decided to lessen your sentence. By one week."
I've always dreamt of what life would be like outside of these four walls the entire time I've been in here, but I found those thoughts getting increasingly worse these past few months. I could imagine what my freedom would taste like, rich, pure, relieving. But now that it's within reach, I can't help but feel skeptical.
"What's in it for you?" I demand, not trusting a single word she speaks, and not daring to get my hopes up. Despite my best attempts, my mind wanders and my heart raced faster, preparing for the breath of fresh air that might come sooner than expected. "Why are you doing this?"
She leans forward, retracting her hand from the big panther, suddenly staring me down, and places it on her knee.
"One less needy prisoner is no skin off my back."